Sonya was used to the castle and its wide halls, everyone clearing a path for her. This part of Castletown, however, was the opposite. The streets were busy, making them feel narrow and cramped.
Feeling small, Sonya tried to take in deep breaths of cool evening air, pushing away the feeling of being suffocated in the tight space. She continued walking, trying to blend into the crowd and not look too astounded by all the new sights.
Because Castletown was home to the king’s seat, it was the richest town in the province of Crownley. As such, it was in good shape, the roads and pathways neat and clean, and the people walking around or stepping out of carriages were dressed in finery. Sonya wondered what other towns were like.
She kept going, deeper into town. She was still too close to the castle; the soldiers would find her easily if her escape became known. She needed to reach the Outskirts, the poorer neighborhood on the edge of Castletown. It was the last place she wanted to go, but it was also the last place the soldiers would look for her.
Sonya wasn’t very good with directions, but as long as she continued going south, she would make it to the Outskirts. Quickening her pace, she weaved her way out of the busy town square. The rain came down harder, soaking her through. Freezing, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself.
The uniform wasn’t doing much to keep her warm. She wished she had a shawl, but they were all of them heirlooms, obvious as jewels with their fine embroidery and expensive fabric. She needed to blend in, not stand out. Her boots, too, were uncomfortable, slightly too big.
Over a month ago, Sonya had asked her maid, Elspeth, for her uniform. Elspeth had red hair and a face full of freckles; she could not be more different in appearance than Sonya, with her richbrown skin and crow-black hair, but theywerethe same height, just a few inches above five feet, and of similar build, even though Elspeth was four years older.
‘Bring me your spare uniform,’ Sonya had said. ‘I’d like to study the stitching.’
Her maid, Elspeth, had been confused, wrinkling her nose. Elspeth always asked too many questions, but Sonya didn’t mind. She liked Elspeth’s chattering. Even though Elspeth was Sonya’s maid, Sonya liked to think that Elspeth was the closest thing she had to a friend. As such, Sonya knew she could get Elspeth to do things other maids might not.
‘But why should you like to study the stitching of a maid’s uniform, my lady?’ Elspeth asked.
‘I wish to see that the standards are being upheld,’ Sonya responded, the response ready. ‘That the tailors aren’t cutting any corners.’
Elspeth laughed. ‘Well, our uniforms aren’t made by the same stitch-witches who make your gowns or the princes’ suits,’ she said. ‘The uniforms are made by apprentices.’
‘Still, I should like to study one,’ Sonya replied.
‘Alright,’ Elspeth had replied, with a shrug. No one would ever suspect Sonya of anything; she was sixteen and of delicate health. She had no friends save for the staff, who were basically paid to be kind to her. Sonya knew they took pity on her; she took pity on herself.
The next day, Elspeth brought her spare uniform: it was a chestnut-brown linen, simple and fuss-free, with a round neckline and long sleeves that could be easily rolled up. A few days later, Sonya told Elspeth she had misplaced the uniform and had a new one made for her. In truth, Sonya had hidden the uniform away.
A week after that, Sonya had purposefully spilled food all overElspeth’s lace-up boots. She made quite the show of being sorry and immediately called to have a new pair made, making Elspeth remove the old pair even as Elspeth protested.
‘My lady, this is nothing,’ Elspeth said. ‘These shoes have seen far worse in the Outskirts.’
‘Iinsist,’ Sonya replied. ‘Leave the shoes. I’ll have them thrown out.’
But Sonya found them, cleaned them, and kept them hidden alongside the uniform. While she and Elspeth were around the same size, the shoes were a little big.
They were soft and worn in, but Sonya’s footing kept slipping. The rain-slicked ground didn’t help.
The path only grew more difficult as the cobblestone beneath her feet turned to mud. She was scared to be leaving the warmth and light of Castletown as she neared the forest. The path was marked, so she couldn’t get lost; even so, the forest was dark and quiet. She could hardly see a thing.
Sonya had left the scissors behind, but she held onto the dagger that had been strapped to her side. It wouldn’t do much, but it made her feel better to hold it in her hand. It may not have been sharp, but it looked frightening.
Clutching the dagger tightly, Sonya continued. It was about an hour’s walk to the Outskirts, and she was already exhausted, but fear of the forest kept her feet moving. Every little noise made her jump, and she moved as fast as she could.
Not for the first time, Sonya wished she was a witch. Any type of witch. There were some witches who excelled at cooking (kitchen-witches); some who were masters of stories (quill-witches); others who were good with animals (shepherd-witches); and so forth. The most powerful witches were chosen to serve on the king’s council.
Her father and brothers were all witches.
Her oldest brother, Shahmir, was a garden-witch like their father, so his room was full of plants and herbs. There was always something in bloom. The second prince, Irfan, was a shepherd-witch; he was spectacular with animals. There was always some kitten or bird or puppy Irfan was taking care of.
Then, lastly, there was Mustafa, who was a quill-witch. He was a master of stories; there were always ink-stains on his fingers and folded papers in his pockets, ready for notes to be jotted down every time he had an idea.
The type of magic one received was hereditary, but it also could be random, showing in whatever the person had an affinity for. Even though there were no shepherd-witches in the Tahir family, Irfan was a shepherd-witch for he loved animals deeply.
But magic did not always pass to everyone. Which was how, in a family of witches, Sonya had no magic. There was something wrong with her.
It was another reason she did not wish to be married. She could not let a stranger get that close. She was afraid her future husband would only be disappointed in her lack of novelty.
